Heartbreak Club

I’m a member of the Heartbreak Club baby,

The club of those rebel vandal girls, who smoked menthols outside of class in the rain and snuck burning vodka in their water bottles.

Those Witch Babies, whose hearts were always blessed by your mother as she clutched her string of pearls.

The Wild Children who screamed into the desert at those late night bonfires, who kissed boys hard until their lips bruised, who cut their hair at three AM with kitchen shears and dyed it Lilac.

I’m a member of the Heartbreak Club baby,

Those Torn Up Angels that are sick of crying on the floor of the girls' bathroom, and skinning their knees at midnight on Main Street, of being both coveted and rejected.

I’m one of Those Girls, that you remember in the hall, that you shunned and slighted, called Whore and Druggie until I ceased to be human, as my angry flame burned brighter and brighter until I burned out and disappeared.

That Moon Child who left without a word of goodbye, or a glance in the rear mirror, the girl you pretend to not understand when she calls out with her burning, hoarse voice, until she could make no more sound. Instead she just shakes her head sadly and never returns.

I’m a member of the Heartbreak Club baby, what about you?